


I’m Lost Without You

by Emmilyne



Series: Our Lives As Heroes [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Bromance, F/M, Fluff, olicity - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 10:26:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5662927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmilyne/pseuds/Emmilyne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver and John haven’t spoken about anything outside saving the city for six months.  And now, with their friendship newly mended, they’re about to learn how much they need each other to keep their lives running properly. </p><p>Post 4x03 Doliver Bromance  Fluff Fluff Fluff.  Lots of baby Sara.  Pet Peeve Fix-it.  Two clueless men in love.  With a Toddler.  Also, fluff. </p>
            </blockquote>





	I’m Lost Without You

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after 4x03: Restoration, but addresses two of my pet peeves from 4x01. And by pet peeves, I mean, they seem to be my private beefs, since at least one of them I haven’t seen anyone else notice and/or care about, but, hey, what is fanfiction for. I hope you like it. 

Oliver stood outside John’s apartment, hesitating.  Their newly mended relationship was still fragile and fresh.  This was only the second time he had been to Digg’s apartment since he and Felicity had returned to the new Star City and Oliver had yet to see Sara and Lyla.

 

Actually, Oliver hadn’t seen Sara and her mother since that horrible night he had ordered Lyla kidnapped.  And facing her now was more than a little intimidating.

 

At the time, it had seemed like the right thing to do.  Oliver had carefully calculated the risks and benefits of abducting Lyla.  He had taken into consideration her skills and resilience.  He’d measured exactly how far away Felicity and Diggle were from the apartment and how long Sara would be alone.  All things considered, it seemed like a reasonable plan, the best scenario he could come up with.

 

It made Oliver shiver thinking about it now, about how easily he had made that decision and how cold and calculating it was.  After six weeks in Nanda Parbat, he’d become so emotionally distant from everything he cared about...  It was the only way to survive.

 

But even though Oliver had never really turned, even though his friends and family had been on his mind every second of every day, he had become cold and hard, the darkness licking the edges of his soul.  By that point, Oliver had only the tiniest hope left that he could survive it all and return home.  _Their_ survival had really been his only goal.  His single minded obsession.

 

But he _had_ returned.  By some miracle, Oliver had returned and gotten a second chance.  And now, standing here after his five-month retreat into domesticity with the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, he couldn't even fathom making a decision like that again.

 

It wasn’t about Lyla.  Taking her had been an acceptable risk, one Oliver could easily live with.  She was a trained agent, a soldier to the cause.  She could handle whatever they threw at her and more.  But Sara…

 

That he had thought it ok to leave an infant alone in an apartment for even a few minutes made Oliver physically ill.  Anything could have happened to her.  _Anything_.  The door wasn’t even locked.

 

If something had happened to that baby…Oliver would never have forgiven himself.  He wouldn’t have had the right to and, now, standing outside of the Diggles’ apartment, he was having a really hard time fathoming why John had.

 

But Oliver was grateful for that forgiveness and he was determined not to fuck this up this time, so he gathered his waning courage and forced himself to knock.  Then he took a deep breath, pushed his hands into his pockets and waited.  It didn’t take long for Digg to open the door.

 

“Hey, man.” John answered, warmly enough, as he welcomed him in. 

 

Oliver forced a smile, shuffling inside, feeling shy and awkward. It was a feeling that he hated, a feeling no one expected from Oliver Queen.

 

“Hi, Lyla and Sara home?”  Oliver held his breath as he waited for an answer.

 

“Lyla’s running a couple of errands.  Sara’s just waking up from a nap.”  John gestured behind him where Oliver could see into the toddler’s room. 

 

Sara appeared from the edge of her crib, popping up and looking around at the sound of their voices.  The railing barely came up to her chest.  When she spotted them she threw out her arms and squealed.

 

Oliver’s stomach dropped and he pushed around John, running for the crib at an almost sprint.  “Oh dear God!”  He scooped Sara out of the crib with pausing to think, his heartbeat still roaring in his ears.

 

As it happens, Sara seemed to think it all a grand game and giggled happily, clearly enjoying the attention.  “Owi...Owi…Owi…” she cooed, clapping her baby hands on Oliver’s face and rubbing his stubble with fascination.

 

“Hey, baby girl,” Oliver murmured, purposely keeping his voice low, when really he was feeling the urge to scream.

 

Sara clapped her hand over his mouth and he kissed it, distantly aware that he had never held her like this before, so comfortably casual.  She’d terrified Oliver before Nanda Parbat.   No, before Ivytown.  He had held quite a few children and toddlers in his months there.

 

But, as interesting as that contemplation was, at the moment, Oliver was more concerned with Sara’s death trap of a crib. Curling one arm securely around her back, Oliver leaned over her crib, reaching down and measuring the depth with his arm, before crouching and inspecting the sides of the structure.

 

Sara squealed happily at the up and down motion and Oliver bounced her a few more times for good measure, his hand firmly on her hip.  Jesus Christ, what were John and Lyla thinking?  Is this _really_ where Sara slept?

 

Finally, John burst out, “What the hell, man!” 

 

For the first time, Oliver turned his attention to his friend.  John was staring at him with his mouth hanging open, like he was looking at some sort of alien, like he had never been this shocked and bewildered in his life.  And with the lives they led that was certainly saying something.

 

Under other circumstances, Oliver may have been chagrined, embarrassed at the liberties he was taking.  Grabbing a baby without asking was not an ok thing, but, at the moment, Oliver was more concerned for little Sara’s safety than etiquette.  Not to mention, he was rather pissed at the Diggles’ handling of the situation. 

 

“John, what were you _thinking_?”

 

“Uh…” John held out his hands in question.  “You’re going to have to give me a little more of a clue as to what the _hell_ you’re talking about, Oliver.  Because right now I’m thinking that you’ve lost your mind.”

 

“Sara’s twelve months old.”

 

“I’m aware…”

 

Oliver gestured to the crib, frankly disappointed at his friend.  “John, this is in bassinet mode.  This crib should have been lowered like seven to eight months ago, before Sara started pulling up! She’s _standing_ , Digg!”  Was he really that obtuse?

 

“Actually, she’s walking,” John told him, his tone both proud and defensive.

 

“Yah!”  Sara agreed, patting Oliver’s cheek.

 

Oliver took a minute to smile at her.  “Are you walking?  My goodness, aren’t you the most brilliant little princess.”

 

“Yah! Yah!  Yah!” Sara bounced at the praise, her little fingers grabbing at Oliver’s shirt.

 

“Oliver!”  Digg snapped, his eyes narrowing.  “I tried to lower the damn thing, ok?  Stupid piece of…it’s _impossible_!  At least the things sturdy as it is.  It’s not like you were here to help me.  And Sara has been _fine_.”

 

Turning his attention back to his friend, Oliver raised his eyebrows.  “Fine?”  He ignored the comment about him not being around, because that one, frankly, stung.  “She could have fallen to her death!” 

 

Which brought about another incredible wave a guilt as Oliver remembered that he had left _this_ child in _this_ crib without anyone to watch her just six months ago.  Christ, all he could do is hope Sara wasn’t pulling up at the time.

 

Digg scoffed and rolled his eyes, biceps flexing under his crossed arms.  "When did you become such a drama queen?"

 

Drama queen, huh?  Well, if John wasn’t going to take this seriously…

 

Oliver placed Sara back in the crib, his hands firmly placed under her arms.  No way he was letting her go back in this crib without support again. 

 

Sara let out a cry, looking up at Oliver, crestfallen and teary eyed at being put back in her crib.  But Oliver just smiled widely to reassure her.  Taking her little hands, he waved them over her head, saying in a high voice, “Daddy, daddy?  Where did you go?  I want out of this thing?”

 

Then Oliver gently took a chubby thigh and showed John just how easy it would be for Sara to scramble onto and _over_ the railing, using the suffocating bumpers as a step.  But he wasn’t even going to go _there_.

 

“Oh, no, daddy!” Oliver cried as Sara squealed happily and he slowly flipped her out of the crib.  “Ahhhhh.”  He showed her tumbling through the air as if in slow motion as Sara laughed.  “Oops!”  He gently laid her on the ground, hand cradling the back of her head as he mimed it hitting it on the ground.  “And that’s how we hit our sweet baby head.”

 

Oliver had never seen such a deep scowl on Diggle and he was pretty sure a rumbly growl emitted from low in his throat.

 

Sara, however, was not letting her daddy steal her attention.  She immediately rolled over, pushed her butt up in the air, and ran right back into Oliver’s arms. “Gain!  Gain!  Up!”

 

Scooping her back up, Oliver beamed at her.  She was little ray of sunshine.  “You are a brilliant girl, aren’t you?  How many words does she have?”

 

“’Again’ and ‘Up’ are her favorites along—What the _hell_ , Oliver!  When did you become the God _damn_ editor of Parent’s Magazine?”

 

Oliver frowned and pressed his free hand against Sara’s ear, cradling her other ear against his chest, hissing, “Do you use this kind of language around her all the time?”

 

John threw his arms up in the air and paced away.  “I’ve entered the Twilight Zone!  That’s the only explanation.”

 

“Gain!  Gain!”  Sara had returned to patting Oliver’s face to get his attention, and she was, frankly, a lot easier to interact with than his still slightly prickly friend.  So, Oliver smiled at her and lifted her up above his head, making Sara squeal her approval.

 

“How do you know _any_ of this!?”  John demanded.

 

“There were a lot of kids in our neighborhood,” Oliver defended, catching Sara’s hand in his mouth for a kiss on her way down.  “Numnumnum,” he smacked his lips around her fingers.

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Well, there was this one mom that Felicity got along really well with.  She had four kids and a husband in Afghanistan so we helped out sometimes.  Felicity fixed her computer.  I lowered the crib when her youngest was old enough.  We babysat sometimes.”

 

“I don’t know, man.  There’s change and there’s…” Digg waved a hand at Oliver, looking a little bit freaked.  “Who _are_ you?”

 

Oliver rolled his eyes, refusing to dignify that with a response.  “I’ll help you lower the crib mattress.  If it doesn’t work, then we can get something else.  Sara would be better off with a mattress on the floor than this.”  He waved at the adorable monstrosity of a crib and kissed Sara’s head, settling her on his hip again.

 

"My God, you really were one step away from married with 2.5 kids in Ivytown."

 

Oliver tensed, feeling himself blush.  He hadn’t discussed it with anyone since he’d returned to Star City, but that was _exactly_ where Oliver had hoped he was headed.  Though, now he was rather worried that Felicity wasn’t exactly on the same page.  And their life in Star City wasn’t exactly child proof. 

 

“ _Jesus_ ,” Digg burst out and Oliver was too embarrassed to reprimand him for his language this time.  “You were!  Were you…were you going to _propose_?”

 

Oliver had to resist the urge to sush him, because that would be ridiculous, given it was just the two of them and a one-year-old.  And who was Sara going to tell with her impressive dozen word vocabulary?  So, Oliver just closed his eyes and tried to think of what to say.  Sara, bored now that he wasn’t flinging her around the room, squirmed and pushed to be set down.

 

"You were!”  John accused again, obviously happy that he was no longer the one under scrutiny.

 

Setting Sara down on her feet, Oliver kept his eyes on the little girl as she ran over in search of her toys and shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

 

John was clearly not pleased by his lack of response.  “Look Oliver, if you’re gonna come into my home and criticize my parenting—”

 

“Not your parenting, your crib,” Oliver muttered, eyes on the floor.

 

Growling, John continued, “Then you damn well better—”

 

“And your _swearing_ , Sara’s talking now.  You don’t want her—”

 

“Stop trying to bring the subject back to Sara!”  John threw up his hands again, his voice rising.  “If you are planning to propose to Felicity, _our_ Felicity then you d—darn well better spill your guts.”

 

Feeling incredibly uncomfortable, both with where the conversation had gone, and with the fact that he had, in fact, been criticizing the parenting of a man he had spent the better part of a month trying to get to forgive him, Oliver shuffled over to Sara and sat down beside her, before confessing in a, hopefully, hard to understand mutter, “I already tried.”

 

“What’s that?” John asked, and when Oliver snuck a glance at him he could see that his friend was smirking at him.  _Clearly_ , Digg was enjoying torturing him.  Oliver almost preferred the scowl.

 

Sara handed Oliver a block, which he accepted with a very forced smile, before confessing in a stronger voice, “I was about 5 seconds away from it when my sister and my ex barged in with a tale of doom and gloom, demanding we come back to Star City.”

 

“Seriously?” 

 

There was a hint of a laugh in Digg’s question and Oliver really couldn’t blame him for finding amusement in the ridiculousness of it all.  Glowering at the block, Oliver nodded a confirmation. 

 

This time, Diggle really laughed, loud and long, bending at the waist and Oliver turned his scowl on his friend, wondering why he’d wanted him to forgive him so badly.  Because this was really too much.  “It’s really not _that_ funny.”

 

“Oh, from where I’m standing it is.  It really, really is.”

 

Oliver didn’t have a good answer for that, so he just sent Digg a glare.  

 

John found that entertaining, of course, and he sat down on the floor as well, still chuckling.  Sara ran to her father for a hug, presenting him with a stuffed bear that was almost as big as she was.  John obediently kissed its furry head, before turning back to Oliver and probing, “ _So,_ that was three weeks ago…”

 

“The time hasn’t been right,” Oliver muttered, grateful for the distraction when Sara shoved the same bear into his face.  It looked oddly familiar.  Following John’s example, he gave the bear a loud kiss, which made Sara smile broadly before she scampered away.  “I want it to be special, not an afterthought.” 

 

He didn’t mention that he worried that Felicity wasn’t as ready as he thought she was after he found out that she had been secretly helping the team and lying to him about it.  And, of course, their lives were very different here.

 

“There’s never going to be a perfect moment, man,” John told him, and, in that moment, he sounded so much like the friend Oliver used to know that his eyes burned.  But only for a second.

 

Finally, looking up and meeting John’s eyes, Oliver’s hand went to his pocket, where he had taken to carrying the ring.  Taking it out, he turned the box over in his hands.  “I know.  I just keep hoping inspiration will hit.”  And that it would feel as right as it had that night in Ivytown.

 

“That the ring?”  John asked and Oliver nodded.  When his friend held out his hand, Oliver passed it over without question, trying to ignore the unmanly flutter of anxiety when John opened the box.  But his friend’s eyes widened and he blew out an appreciative breath.  “Sh—shoot, man.  This thing’s huge!”

 

Oliver grinned with pride.  He was really counting on Felicity loving the ring.

 

“Did you buy this with Palmer Tech money too?”

 

“Of course not,” Oliver tried not to be too indignant.  “That would be tacky.  I’m not using Felicity’s money to buy her own engagement ring.”  Also, she might notice the huge outflow of cash from their account.  He smiled to himself.  Just the idea of their shared bank account always made him a little bit giddy.  “This was my mother’s.”

 

John’s face fell and his eyes jerked from the ring to Oliver’s face.  Oh crap.  “What?” Oliver asked, apprehension building in his gut.  That was _not_ a good look.

 

“Dude…” John winced as he said it.  “You can’t give Felicity your mother’s ring.”

 

“Why not?!”  Oliver was aware that he sounded churlish, but there was panic waiting in the wings.  He snatched the ring back from John’s hands.  “It’s an heirloom.”

 

“But your parent’s marriage—”

 

“Wasn’t ideal, sure.” What the hell did that have to do with anything, anyway?  “It’s still a gorgeous ring.”

 

“Oliver, they cheated on each other.  _Multiple_ times.  With people who have tried to kill us.”

 

“Are you claiming the ring is cursed?” Oliver demanded, his knuckles turning white around the black velvet box.  Did it really matter that his dad cheated on his mom?  Or vis versa?  Oliver wasn’t going to cheat on Felicity.  _Ever_.

 

“No…” John frowned and looked to the side, seeming to be looking for answers in a plastic doll house.  “Look, you want Felicity to wear this ring for the rest of her life, right?”

 

“That’s the idea, yeah.”

 

“Oliver, I know Felicity and she isn’t going to feel comfortable wearing your mom’s ring.”  John sighed.  “She’d never tell you, but trust me, she won’t.”

 

It was like the rug had been pulled out from under him.  In some ways, Digg knew Felicity even better than he did…he…but Oliver didn’t have a backup plan.  “I’m sure, it’s not that—”

 

“Man, they didn’t get along.”

 

“Felicity and my mom?”  Is that what this was all about?  Oliver knew there was some friction, but it wasn’t that big a deal.  Was it?  “They barely knew each other.” 

 

"I guess, but…"  Digg clenched his jaw and straightened his shoulders, moving to sit more directly across from Oliver so he could look him easily in the eye. It wasn’t a good sign.  “Oliver, putting aside the fact that Moira lived her life in a way that Felicity is fundamentally opposed to in every way—”

 

“She loved us,” Oliver defended in a mutter, really hating this conversation.

 

“True.  So, as I said, let’s put _that_ aside and focus on the fact that Moira treated Felicity like…” Digg glanced guiltily at Sara, who was happy stuffing her bear into the too small doll house, “like S. H. I. T.”

 

“What?”  It came out in a high pitch squeal.  Because Oliver had no idea.  If he had known such a thing was happening, he would have put a stop to it.

 

“Your mom, she treated Felicity like your secretary.  Not your EA.  Your _secretary._  In a very 1950s you’re our servant and not fit to shine my son’s shoes kind of way.”

 

“That’s not true,” Oliver denied, though it was halfhearted, because he didn’t _know_.  Not for sure.  It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen his mother treat dozens of people like that over the years.  The idea of her treating Felicity like that made him queasy.  

 

John sighed again, leaning forward, "Felicity didn't want you to know this, but remember when she found out that Thea was Malcolm’s daughter?”

 

Oliver nodded, that queasy feeling building.

 

“Well, before coming to you, Felicity confronted Moira with the information and asked her to tell you herself.”

 

Again, Oliver nodded.  That made perfect sense.  It even gave him a swell of pride, because _of course_ that’s what Felicity would do.  It was the right thing.  The brave thing.

 

“Moira informed her that she wasn’t going to tell you and neither was Felicity.”  The look on John’s face as he said this was that of sympathy with an underbelly of old rage.  “Moira told Felicity that she was aware of her _feelings_ for you and that if she told you, you would never forgive her.  Felicity, that is.”

 

Olive’s head fell back in defeat.  “Crap.”

 

“Language, dude.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

Seeming to recognize that she was somehow being acknowledged again, or maybe just realizing that Oliver needed a hug, Sara came running over the throw herself back into his lap, chanting, “Owww…Owiowiowieeeee.”

 

“Hey, there, pretty girl.”  Oliver hugged her back and helped her climb up onto his legs, but his mind was spinning.  He kept his eyes on Sara, a fake smile plastered on his face as he admitted to her father, “Felicity was really freaked out when she told me about Thea.  I should have known something was wrong.  Something besides the obvious, I mean.”

 

“Moira basically insinuated that Felicity didn’t have a chance in H.E.L.L. with you,” John told him quietly as Oliver slid the box under his thigh and helped Sara balance on his legs.

 

“Great.  Just great.”  As if he needed another reason to dislike his mother.  Since she had died, Oliver tried to only remember the good things, but then stuff like this happened.  “Thank God, Felicity wasn’t intimidated and told me anyway.” At least, he could take comfort in that.  “She must have known I wouldn’t hold that against her.”

 

“You slept with Sara for the first time that night.”

 

“Chris—” Oliver caught himself just in time, but threw himself back onto the rug in defeat, taking Sara with him.  She thought it was a fabulous game, but Oliver buried his face in her soft baby neck, thinking of that night and battling self-disgust. 

 

“That had nothing to do with Felicity,” Oliver murmured, not knowing why he was defending himself.  “Sara and I…not you, baby…” he pressed a kiss to the giggling toddler’s cheek.  “We were both lost, in pain.  We were looking for comfort in someone as messed up as we were, in someone we couldn’t _hurt_.  That was all.”

 

Oliver rolled onto his side, holding Sara to his chest, to look Digg in the eyes, again they were sympathetic and his tone gentle when he said, “I know that but…I don’t think that is how it felt to Felicity.”

 

Swallowing, Oliver reached for the ring again, opening the box so he could stare at it, like the cursed thing would have the answers.  Of course, Sara reached for it, because _shiny_.  “No, sweetheart,” Oliver reprimanded gently, closing the box again, though he wondered, in that moment, if he should just give the damn thing to the baby.

 

“John, I’m home,” Lyla called from the front door.  It was followed by the sound of the door clicking shut.

 

“We’re here,” her husband called in return and Oliver wondered if he should be nervous about seeing Lyla for the first time since he technically kidnapped her, but, at the moment, he was too depressed to worry about it.

 

Instead, Oliver focused on Sara, who was rocking back and worth over his torso as he lay on his side, kicking her feet up.  He put his hand on her back and rocked her, helping her bounce from hands to feet and back again.  He found a strange comfort in being a human jungle gym. 

 

“Hey,” Lyla greeted as she came to stand over them, a smile on her face.  “Well, aren’t you three adorable…uh oh, why the long faces?”

 

John smiled up at his wife.  “Oliver wants to propose to Felicity, but he can’t afford to buy her a nice ring without using _her_ money and he has his mom’s ring but Felicity kinda, secretly hated his mother.”

 

“Thank you for that, John,” Oliver scowled, feeling anything but grateful at the easy assessment of his little _catastrophe_.

 

Then Sara realized her mom was back and abandoned Oliver to run over to her mother and demand to be picked up.  Lyla crouched down and captured her daughter in a huge hug.  Once she was done giving and receiving sloppy kisses, Lyla turned to Oliver and asked, “Can I see?”

 

Nothing to lose now.  Oliver handed over the box.  Besides, after you abduct your best friend’s wife, you kind of have to do whatever she asks.  Forever.

 

Lyla opened up the box and whistled, “That’s some rock.”  She pulled out the ring and held it up to the light, but Oliver couldn’t find the same thrill in it as he did before.  “Are you opposed to separating the diamond from the setting?  Is it a very old heirloom?”

 

“No…”  Oliver sat up, feeling the start of hesitant hope glimmering.  “Why?”

 

“I know a guy who makes custom settings.  The stone is the expensive part.” Taking one last look at the ring, Lyla carefully put in back in the box.  “You can get a new setting, even a really nice one with additional stones for less than a thousand.”

 

Oliver’s eyes widened and he took the ring back, looking at it with new eyes.  He would really love to give Felicity something original.  Something unique like her.  “He could add other gems?”

 

“Sure.”

 

Biting his lip, Oliver held the ring to the light the way Lyla had, imagining it on Felicity’s hand like he had a million times before, but different…  “Do you think…Do you think she’d like it if I added emeralds to the sides?”

 

Lyla grinned indulgently and it kind of warmed Oliver’s heart after everything.  It felt like everything was finally behind them.  “I think she would love it.”

 

“It wouldn’t be too…on the nose?”  He looked to Digg for confirmation.  “I could do rubies.  She looks amazing in red.”

 

“I think she’d love emeralds,” John grinned back.

 

“I can call over and see if we can get an appointment today?” Lyla offered.  “See what they think.  Honestly, though, with a rock like this they may recommend something very simple.  You can save the emeralds for the wedding bands.”

 

Wedding bands.  Wow.  Yeah.  That sounded…really really good.

 

“Yeah.  I’d like that.”  Oliver started to smile and thank her, but his attention was grabbed by Sara’s high pitched laugh as Digg perched her bear on his head.  “But first, John, we gotta fix that crib.”

 

Lyla turned on him in a flash.  “Johnny!  I _told_ you, that damn mattress was too high!  You never listen—”

 

“Hey, Sara, baby, show Uncle Ollie how your bear sings.”

 

Oliver’s eyes widened as he heard the first bars of the Little Mermaid start, his face heating, “Oh.  My.  Go—”

**Author's Note:**

> If you’ve read my story _Teddy Bears and Lullabies_ , you’ll probably notice the end there was a nod to that (same bear without the clothes). I’m putting these in a collection all in the same universe, all cannon compliant (until they’re not). I also updated _Teddy Bears and Lullabies_ , to be season four compliant. Chapter 2 of _When Life Implodes_ should be out this weekend (fingers crossed). 
> 
> Now I’m going to rant a little about my pet peeves, please feel free to skip this part. ;) So apparently, I’m the only one and when I showed it to my husband he didn’t notice either, but I can’t look at baby Sara’s crib and not cringe. I’m afraid for the actress, when David Ramsey and Audrey Marie Anderson turn away from her, that she’s going to fall out of that crib and crack her head open! Come-on people, there are parents on that set. I know it looks pretty, but it’s a death trap. 
> 
> Sorry, rant over. 
> 
> And the ring thing…well, this is my delusional head cannon because I don’t think Felicity should have Moira’s ring. I’m just pretending that Oliver had the setting changed and if anyone wants to argue that they still look identical, my hands are over my ears **la la I can’t hear you**
> 
> Please let me know what you think. Comments and Kudos are happy, fluffy, inspiration-inducing tokens of wonderfulness, that are gratefully appreciated. 
> 
> Emmy 


End file.
